


Stable Relations

by JonStark



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-29
Updated: 2013-10-29
Packaged: 2017-12-30 20:37:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1023120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JonStark/pseuds/JonStark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Why? Are you jealous, Robb?” Then it dawned on him. “You are jealous! Little Lordling Robb Stark, first of his name is jealous of an alemaster’s daughter who tends to our horses? Has the wall melted? Has someone suddenly invaded King’s Landing and taken the Iron Throne for himself? Has Greyjoy passed off the pleasure of a young girl? Or is Robb Stark just too proud to admit his feelings for me?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stable Relations

**Author's Note:**

> “Why? Are you jealous, Robb?” Then it dawned on him. “You are jealous! Little Lordling Robb Stark, first of his name is jealous of an alemaster’s daughter who tends to our horses? Has the wall melted? Has someone suddenly invaded King’s Landing and taken the Iron Throne for himself? Has Greyjoy passed off the pleasure of a young girl? Or is Robb Stark just too proud to admit his feelings for me?”

The day was drawing close to an end; Robb could tell because he could feel the snow getting thicker and quicker and the sky getting deeper and darker. Already, his sister’s had left their sewing class and a few hours ago had spotted Sansa prancing off to her chambers to prepare for dinner. It was the first time Robb had envied his younger sister; she was happy, relaxed and would soon be within the warm castle of Winterfell and not being beaten with swords by his brother’s. 

Robb shivered, and Theon Greyjoy his him round the head with his sword. It was a hard blow, and it had certainly knocked Robb from his train of thought. “What you dreaming about Stark?” Theon asked him. Theon looked as cold as Robb felt. “The quicker you get Jon to wield, the quicker we can all go to supper. Now hit him!”

Robb looked across at his half-brother, who was smiling at one of the maids feeding the horses in the stable. His eyes glaring at Jon, Robb raised his sword high above his head and charged at Jon, but with a swift and sudden movement, without even taking his eyes off the stable wench, Robb was thrown to the ground in a movement Robb had been too slow to realise. His younger brother towered over him and offered him a hand to get up. Robb declined it and pulled himself up.

Jon Snow was his father’s bastard, almost one year younger than him, but for what he lacked in age he made up in strength, chivalry and, well, good-looks. Robb and Theon and their younger brother Bran laughed as Robb threw his sword down.

Ser Rodrik Cassel looked on at the young men and shook his head. “We’ll be out here all night if we wait for Stark to beat Snow. Get inside the lot of you – and I’ll tell your mother and father about this Stark; you weren’t focusing today.”

“I was focusing,” Robb said once Ser Rodrik was out of ear-shot, “on your fat gut.”

The boy’s let out a snigger as they cleared up the courtyard like they did after every training; Ser Rodrik considered that they should at least have the courtesy to clean up after themselves. 

Theon was the first to finish and took Bran up to the castle. Theon was their father’s ward, but Robb considered him to be as good as a brother to him like Jon, Bran and Rickon were. Still, Theon was a tease and Robb cursed his company at times, but Theon often knew when to leave him alone, and this was one of those times. But Robb hoped he had done it unconsciously.

Once Theon and Bran were safely gone from the yard and there was certainly no one else around them, tentatively, Robb approached Jon Snow who was folding his leathers away in Cassel’s trunk.

Robb sidled up beside him. “We need to talk.”

Jon said nothing. The silence aggravated Robb for a while, but Jon nodded. “Come to the stable with me,” he requested, turning to the older boy. “I need to put away Ser Rodrik’s saddle.”

Jon picked up the fine piece of leather and carried it towards the stable. Robb didn’t know whether he should walk beside him, in front of him or dither behind him. Then he thought: I haven’t done anything wrong and nobody else knows. So he walked alongside Jon, but kept his eyes to the ground and hands firmly together behind his back.  
The dark-haired boy handed the saddle to the girl he had been smiling back, and she giggled and scurried away. Instead of leaving the stable, Jon ventured further through it near to where his own horse was kept, and with a click of the lock, Jon and Robb were inside Jon’s horses bed. The horse was sleeping on the floor and paid the two boys no regard.

The red-haired Lordling of Winterfell and the brown-haired bastard of the Lord of Winterfell stood quietly before each other before Robb finally had the nerve to say something, to break this ever-lasting awkward silence between them.

“Who was that girl you were talking to?” Robb questioned. “You were looking at her during training before I attacked you, and you gave her your saddle.”

“I was talking to her while you attempted to attack me,” Jon corrected with a smile.

“Why were you talking to the Horse girl?”

“The horse girl has a name: Becca.”

Confused: “Why were you talking to Becca?” 

“Why? Are you jealous, Robb?” Then it dawned on him. “You are jealous! Little Lordling Robb Stark, first of his name is jealous of an alemaster’s daughter who tends to our horses? Has the wall melted? Has someone suddenly invaded King’s Landing and taken the Iron Throne for himself? Has Greyjoy passed off the pleasure of a young girl? Or is Robb Stark just too proud to admit his feelings for me?”

Robb had never felt so embarrassed in his life and he could feel the warmth rushing into his cheeks. Normally, Jon was the cautious one, the kind one, the one whom was on the receiving end of the teasing. Robb didn’t like it very much when it was the other way around.

“I can’t... There are certain things that are expected of me, Jon, you know that.”

“I do,” Jon agreed brashly. “You’re going to inherit Winterfell once father dies, and to pass it on, you’re going to have to marry a girl or similar status – possibly a Lannister girl or the King’s Niece or Beth Cassel, and you’re going to have a son and he’s going to marry a girl and have a son and the cycle will begin again. I know what’s expected of you, Robb, but it doesn’t have to be you.”

Robb acknowledged his words with surprise. “If it’s not me, then Winterfell will go to Bran and eventually his children. He’s not the true heir of Winterfell; he won’t be as respected as much as I.”

“I’ll respect you,” said Jon in a low whisper. Robb raised his eyes and was aware how close his half-brother was to him. Robb swallowed. “We need to talk about last night.” Robb agreed that he did. “I understand if you don’t want anything to do with me and I wouldn’t be surprised either, but I – I love you, Robb and-”

“-You love me?”

Suddenly, the teasing and playful Jon Snow whom had been there seconds ago had vanished into a scared little boy, hiding his feelings away. Softly, Robb took his hand and gently squeezed it.

“I love you.”

Jon had never been so relieved to hear anything in his life, and the two boys kissed. It had not been Robb’s first kiss; his first kiss had a few moons ago with a daughter of his father’s men. She was a fairly beautiful girl with pale skin and curly black hair. Looking back, perhaps Robb had been drawn to her because of her resemblance to Jon... But that was before Robb Stark knew he was in love with his bastard brother.

Jon tried to speak, but it’s futile. Jon kisses him so intensely and fervently Robb feels like he’s taken milk of the poppy, like he’s swimming. Not in water, not in the lake at Winterfell, but in light. Being embraced by radiance was like being kissed by Jon Snow.

Their lips broke apart, succumbing the need for oxygen, and Jon said the first words, cautious as he always is. “This is wrong.”

“So wrong,” Robb teased.

He gazed into Jon’s eyes, deep pools of molten brown, flickering in the dull sunlight, drawing Robb in like Theon to a naked girl. Robb felt Jon’s heart beating against his like the sound Father’s banner men made on hunts and journeys. It was so rhythmic, like a song. Jon’s heartbeat was their own lull of an unspoken melody.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” Jon moaned, Robb biting his lip. “We’re brothers.”

“Half-brothers,” Robb corrected. “Targaryen’s wed brother and sister for generations, and everybody knows how close the Lannister twins are. We’re made to be together Jon; there’s nothing wrong with falling in love.”

That was a correct statement: there was nothing wrong with falling in love. But it all just depended on who they had fallen in love with. In Jon’s case, it was his older half-brother, the heir to Winterfell. Jon was making him sacrificing his duties as the heir to the North; he had distracted him during training and now... now Jon was making his brother question all his duties: everything he had been born for.

“Don’t think about that now,” Robb requested. Their foreheads rested against each other and Robb had Jon locked in an embrace. “Think about it a few months down the line or in   
a few years. Let’s not think about the bad things now; live in the moment.”

Robb’s hands reached into Jon’ tangled mess of a hair, wet and damp from the soft, summer snow and his hands got caught within it. Jon lowered his hands to Robb’s waist and Robb wished he could do the same, but he got caught up in Jon’s hair, eyes and arms. Eventually, Robb didn’t try and struggle out of Jon’s hair, and instead massaged it with his fingers.

They seemed to be stood there together in each other’s arms for what seemed like forever, and they couldn’t have asked for time to go any slower. Finally, Robb had Jon just how he wanted him after biting back his feelings for months and months, and he knew the other boy felt just the same. Robb had never been so happy in his life.  
But their happiness was short-lived as it always was. They heard footsteps and hands unlocking the bolt on Jon’s stable. Jon jumped backwards, almost knocking into his horse and she stirred, but fell back asleep. Jon’s hand rushed to his hair to attempt to comb it through, and Robb tugged on his tunic; Jon’s hands had been up there, he didn’t know what affectionate damage had been done.

It was only Arya dressed ready for dinner, and she looked on at her brother’s suspiciously. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” the boys said in unison, fast.

Arya was disbelieving. “Supper’s ready... Why are you in the stable?”

Jon looked at his horse. “Tana’s ill.”

“No she’s not,” Arya argued stubbornly. “You were riding her this morning.”

“Don’t you ever mind your own business?” Robb asked with a smirk. 

“Robb,” Jon warned. 

Arya frowned with frustration. “Mother wants you both at dinner now; Ser Rodrik is dining with her and he’s told Mother and Father that you weren’t good at practice today, Robb. Are you going to dinner? If not, can I stay with you? Sansa’s being horrible again.”

Jon smiled at his sister and ruffled her hair, something he did much too often for Arya’s liking. Robb lifted her up and tipped her upside down. She squealed like a pig and Robb threw her to her feet. He put an arm around her.

Discreetly, Robb intwined his fingers with Jon’s. Because they were with Arya, they were safe; people would assume it was a game.  
But their love was more than a game to each other; it was their life.


End file.
